A further acquaintance corroborated Cora’s idea of Nina Gordon’s brains.  She seemed to have no mind of her own; a good thing, perhaps, in some cases, but a more spiritless person to talk to never vexed the heart of man or woman either.  She had no answer for the simplest question without first asking it from her mother, and away from her mother’s side she was uneasy and almost dumb.

The mother’s idiosyncrasy was always to do “the correct thing.”  The fear of not doing it, or the dread of having done it unknowingly, was constantly before her—­the bugbear that troubled her daily.  Perhaps the daughter inherited the mother’s dread, and her fear of doing or saying something that was not just “the correct thing” made her put all the responsibility of conversation on her mother’s shoulder.  Dexie was amused, as well as provoked, as she listened to the efforts at conversation which Cora vainly endeavored to sustain with her double, and it was evident that Mrs. Gurney also was surprised as well as amused at Mrs. Gordon’s remarks.

“However do you manage with such a large family, Mrs. Gurney?” she was saying.  “Why, with only Nina I am wearied to death; for from the time she wakes up I must see to everything for her until she goes to bed again at night.  How you manage it for so many, I can’t see, I am sure.  I should die of fatigue.”

“Oh! the children soon get big enough to help themselves, and the younger ones, too,” Mrs. Gurney replied, with a smile.  “I seldom see my girls in the morning until I meet them at the breakfast table.”

“Is it possible!  Do you not have to superintend their dressing?” she asked, in surprise.

“Why, no, Mrs. Gordon!  Girls of that age,” waving her hand toward the group by the window, “are supposed to have judgment of their own in such things, and with some to spare for the little ones.”

“Dear me!  I should be so afraid they would not do the correct thing if I was not by.”

“Perhaps you are by when she ought to rely on herself,” was the smiling answer.  “My girls are relieving me of much of the burden of household cares.”

“Well, well!” and Mrs. Gordon looked across at the girls in surprise.  “I wonder you are not in constant dread that some of them might not do the correct thing when you are not near with your instructions.  How wonderful that you can trust them alone so much!  Nina seems a child in comparison.”

Dexie was mentally comparing Nina to a big, useless doll; for she had to conclude that Nina cared for nothing but “to be dressed up and wait in the parlor for callers.”

The girls coaxed Nina away from her mother’s side while the latter was talking to Mrs. Gurney; but directly she was asked a question she wanted to rush back to her mother, and see how she should answer it.

“But don’t you know yourself whether you like music or not?” Dexie asked her, as Nina vainly endeavored to catch her mother’s eye.  “Do you not play or sing, Miss Gordon?”